Location: A room. Of some sort.Time: Not important, but probably late afternoon to early evening.

Seth Cuthbert, a small, slight boy with short Holocaust survivor hair stepped into the room. He stared at each of the gray walls, then sat down on a couch that seemed to be one of the main decorative features. After a moment, he was confronted by the entrance of another boy, an equally small, pretty sort of a boy in a top hat and a cravat. They were men's clothes, although the boy looked hardly older than sixteen. Seth blinked. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," said the pretty boy. "I'm the Saint. Who are you?"

"I'm Seth Cuthbert," said Seth, slightly puzzled. "You're a saint?"

"No. The Saint. It is different," the Saint informed him laboriously, and sat down next to him on the couch, a good deal closer than Seth would have liked. "And now," he added. "We wait."

"We wait for what?" asked Seth somewhat nervously. There was something fundamentally indecent about the Saint.

The Saint shrugged. "For the people to come. I expect they will. I," he added, with a flourish of one hand, "am a magnet. For people. Pretty people especially."

Comments

Terence shifted vaguely in an upward direction to kiss Seth, slow and lazy. "Let's just, you know, do this for a couple minutes," he suggested, trailing his fingers across Seth's back, "and then I can return the favor." He paused. "I mean, not the exact favor because that would be impossible, and oh shit I'm being insensitive but you know what I mean I hope, maybe," and he shut himself up quite efficiently with more kissing.

"I don't - I mean, I'm sorry, but I'm not certain what -" Seth babbled stupidly into Terence's mouth. "Not that this isn't nice. This is nice. Very nice. The niceness of this can be blamed for how dumb I am. I mean, I like you. A lot. You're very nice. It's nice. But what...what are you thinking you might do because I'm not certain it's all right and not that you're doing anything wrong but mmph," he concluded, his mouth otherwise occupied.

Terence pulled back slightly, enough to giggle at Seth's expression. "We're babbling," he said. "We're both babbling. And I don't know what I was going to do - make it up as I went, I guess. I mean. Unless there's something specific. That you want. You know."

"Oh," said Seth, giggling a little as well. "Christ, well. You asked,that's so. Odd. Anyway. I mean, I do have thing that get me off, or whatever, but everyone does, you know, and really at the moment I just want to sort of be here. Not that I'm being sentimental, but this is nice, and you - we are babbling aren't we?"

Terence, having processed Seth's fumbling speech of some minutes before, disengaged from kissing the other boy and rested his forehead on Seth's. "It's all right," he said, "to be a little sentimental. I mean. How many boys do you know who, like, cuddle after blow jobs?"

"Exactly none," said Seth, not looking Terence in the eye. "Or, probably, a few, but I've never been present during said blow jobs. They all have, you know, steady boyfriends or whatever. And the guy I'm usually with -" Seth broke off, laughing at the entire concept. "It's not his thing. What, do you always do this?"

"No," Terence said. "I mean, locker-room-after-lacrosse-practice sex doesn't exactly, you know, ask for cuddling or whatever. I like you, though," he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, which to him it was, kissing Seth on the cheek, "so there you are."

"So you. . ." Seth trailed off, looking abstractedly at what appeared to be Terence's cheekbone. "You just do this often? I'm not being bitter, you understand, but whenever you see someone you like you just go ahead with it?"

"With what?" Terence asked. "Kissing? Fucking? Well, I like a lot of people, but not a lot of people, statistically, are even into that, boys with boys and all that, so sort of. I guess." His brow furrowed. "I mean, usually with friends, because if you can't have fun with them then who can you do it with?" He twined a finger through his hopelessly mussed hair, considering.

"I really like you too," said Terence, who thought it had been implied via kissing and fellatio and cuddling and more kissing after that. "Doesn't matter where we are, particularly, does it? I mean, we'll get back to wherever we came from somehow. Don't worry about it." He kissed Seth, resting his hands on the sharp bones of the smaller boy's hips, which was the best way to stop people worrying that he knew.

"Won't," he said, "promise." He moved his hands to a position where he felt they would give less offense, which happened to be up Seth's shirt, on the small of his back. He leaned in to kiss him again, trying to kiss him in a reassuring way but out of his depth as far as that was concerned.